Don't Panic (Yet)
by vitoline
Summary: Tread: to put down one's foot. Treadless: to stand still... to retreat. The next-gens gravitate towards Tim to solve their problems. He doesn't want to, but he sees everything. When things quickly go downhill, it affects their performance on the track - and Tim will have to find a way to resolve everything by the end of the season. He didn't do anything wrong...right?
1. Chapter 1: Revving Up

**Chapter One: Revving Up**

"Rust-eze Racing Center, huh," Tim said, doubling over in laughter. "You're _really_ training at that place?"

"I actually hate you," The voice on the phone replied. She couldn't help but grin – Tim's laughter was too contagious. "It's the _Dinoco_ Racing Center now. You should know this!"

"Okay, fine. Have it your way. I know you hate your brother, but couldn't you have trained anywhere else?" Tim gave in. "You know, with me?"

Zoe Treadless smiled, although he couldn't see it. She was terrified at what her family would say when she told them she left college to train full-time. She'd been studying mechanical engineering – somewhat a stone's throw from actual stock car racing, but she trained at Biggs Industries with Tim as a kid anyways. Surprisingly, Tim was handling the news better than she thought– he was a professional himself now, after all. He couldn't really stop her; he was never the overly protective type.

Honestly, Zoe doubted her decision to leave, especially after Tim didn't make it past the finish line last weekend in Florida. That was the day she cleaned out her dorm and had dinner with her friends before she left for good. Her circle consisted of avid racing fans who hated missing any of Tim's races, especially the first of the season, but they understood moving out was a huge decision for Zoe. But what crappier way to find out your brother's in ICU than through Chick Hicks on the midnight train's radio?

"I'll see you at the Talladega Speedway," Zoe assured him. She leaned against the balcony of her new apartment and picked at the band-aid on her finger. "Take care of yourself, _Timid_."

"Bye Zo. Don't forget to buy toilet paper," His face lit up as he spoke. "And one last thing. Never, _ever_ tell anyone your racing secrets. That happens at training centres… I learned that the hard way."

* * *

The Rust-eze Racing Center was not a bad place to work. Not really. It stood for a huge milestone for Cruz – even getting hired was a miracle in itself. For two years, she never had to pay rent, pay for her own gas, or cook for herself. Although she would never admit it, the cafeteria's food was pretty good. It was taboo to admit that at the training center, but everybody went for seconds. Contrary to popular belief (Lightning), Sterling treated her well – as a _trainer_.

Now that she was a racer (yes, thank you, Lightning, "racer not a trainer," thank you) she was temporarily homeless. It seemed like a silly thing to think about, but the thought suddenly flew into her head as she watched everybody head home after the race. The celebratory confetti that flew over her head was already getting picked up by the cleanup crew.

"Show's over," One of the volunteers said, throwing a Corona and a pair of sunglasses over his shoulder. The sunglasses bounced off Cruz' head and landed in the trash pile.

Cruz shook herself and turned to walk away. She had to find Mr. McQueen, or Sally, or someone to give her a ride. Maybe Sterling still had her room open back at Rust-eze. Or one of her former trainees would let her in? No… she'd definitely be shunned by Sterling.

In frustration, Cruz kicked the trash pile and the same sunglasses hit her in the knee. The lens fell off and broke. The volunteer looked at her angrily.

"Whoops," Cruz said instinctively. She picked up the glasses and dusted them off. "_Return to Tim Treadless. This shit was expensive." _Cruz read, squinting her eyes in the setting sun.

"Okay what," She shouted and threw the glasses back in disgust. "You call those expensive?"

"Just get your ride," The volunteer sighed in exasperation, leaning against the wall. "I gotta get home for the Game of Thrones episode."

Cruz looked at him and sighed back. "Guess I'll be seeing you often," She said to no one in particular, shooting finger guns. "Y'know, since I'm a racer now."

The volunteer gave her a tight-lipped smile and went back to picking up garbage and IGNTR shirts people stomped over.

Cruz held her metallic yellow helmet and walked to the emptying Dinoco tent. There were only a handful of people left, including Tex, Lightning and a few engineers.

"Hey Cruz," Lightning greeted her, extending his hand. He always greeted her in that same welcoming, enthusiastic voice. "I was just talking to Tex here. Had to catch up with an old buddy."

Tex slapped him on the back jovially. His face was a bit red and he looked ecstatic.

"We were just talking about your future, Cruz," Lightning continued, glancing back at Tex. "Of course, we're not going to force you into anything, but Tex has always been good at business deals…"

Cruz peeked at the huge, sky blue tent and smiled. _I mean, it's only Dinoco, the biggest business ever._

Lightning smiled back. "Well what I wanted to say was – "

"I bought Rust-eze!" Tex exclaimed, unable to hold in his laughter as well. "Anyway, you don't got a thing to worry 'bout, Cruz. That Sterling couldn't stand a chance against me."

"It won't take long to refurnish the place – I'm guessing a few days?" Lightning glanced at Tex and he nodded. "Nothing really needs to be renovated," He assured her. "You can stay at the Cozy Cone until then. I'm sure Sally would love that."

Tex looked incredulously at his friend. "Cozy Cone? Nah. She's staying at the Dinoco Training Center, you dimwit! She's gotta train! We'll still have the training area open, I got money to make!"

Tex's already red face erupted into laughter once again. Cruz couldn't help but cover her mouth as she held back her own laughter. She was starting to like Tex more and more.

"And Lightning, you know you're driving for Dinoco now too," Tex grinned, like everything Lightning said was funny. "But I'll let ya off this time. I know you got a wife, and kids, and all that back at the Radiator – "

"No kids." Lightning said, making wild hand gestures in embarrassment. "No kids at all. And no wife," He murmured, blushing at the last part.

"Okay well," Tex paused, sobering quickly. "Well, y'know I understand if a wife ain't what you want… that's common these days. Y'know, BLT Q+ and whatnot." He stared off into the distance, or actually, the empty bleachers.

"Uh, Mr. Dinoco?" Cruz said abruptly, raising her hand out of habit. "All I want to do is train… that's all I could've asked for. Thanks for letting me stay at the training center. I won't let you down sir!"

"I know you won't Cruz. That's why I chose you." He smiled warmly, jabbing Lightning with his elbow. "And because of _this_ ol' man who I didn't want to lose to that hotshot Sterling!"

He resumed with his thunderous laughter. It hit Cruz that she'd have to hear that laugh for a long, long time.

"Yay, team Dinoco," She said, as Lightning held his face in his hands. He kept repeating something about a ring.

**A/N: Hey guys! I JUST joined the cars fandom (I know, pretty late). No idea if anyone will read this but I love the next gens so this story will be next gen centric! There isn't exactly a main character but Tim, Jackson, Cruz, Chase, Danny etc. will all appear in the later chapters. If u want to talk more about Cars message me y'all**


	2. Chapter 2: Sponsor Monster

**Chapter Two: Sponsor Monster**

The air was thick and hot in the conference room. Around the table were four people, sweating profusely with their eyes focused on the TV. Unfortunately, the construction was underway - causing the AC to be temporarily broken - so the little group was relocated to the basement, void of any windows.

Cruz was draped over the dingy fan, holding up her baggy shirt so the wind blew into it. Sterling hadn't touched the basement at all - the walls weren't even done. She honestly didn't think it'd be this _bad_.

The remaining three people were dispersed all around the table. Tex Dinoco held his head in his hands, wiping his sweat with a paper towel. The funny thing about Tex was that he always looked somewhat inebriated. He was also forced against his will to be here instead of supervising the construction going on upstairs, which he absolutely hated.

"Cruz! Pay attention to the screen!" Tex yelled, his mustache twitching as the whirring increased. She could sense his agitation just from his voice.

Cruz leaned against the fan one more time before reluctantly taking her place at the table. This wasn't the high life with McQueen anymore, and the last thing she wanted to do was annoy her first sponsor.

Next to him was a younger man in his thirties, looking much more relaxed with his arms folded across his chest. Still, his blue eyes looked tired as he gazed at the TV.

You didn't need to be a Piston Cup fan to know who he was. Cal Weathers was known even by Cruz's mom, more for his relationship to the King than for his racing. Cal was such a chill person that he probably wouldn't have become a racer if he wasn't born under the name Weathers. He lacked adrenaline rushes during races and relied more on thought-out strategies to win. Despite all this, he was a fan favorite. He had multiple wins under his belt, after all.

Well, emphasis on _was_. He retired only last year and immediately went on a vacation with his wife to the Bahamas for three months. Lightning's stories made Cruz expect a sullener guy who lost the job of his life, but on the contrary, he looked pretty happy to her. He did his job well, spent a hell of a time winning during the short time he was in it, and retired with more than enough money to spare.

Cal was a staple Dinoco boy. And now, Cruz's new crew chief.

Or something like that. It was Kyle, the Dinoco spotter, who made Tex attend the little race analysis, hoping it would bring Cal back into the racing world. Even now, Cal wasn't fully convinced he was the right man for the job; Tex always teased him for his racing. Everything had been super short notice for the old superstar, and he was feeling a bit stressful.

"So, Lightning taught you that move?" Cal asked, pointing at the TV. Kyle re-winded the part where Cruz flipped over Jackson. Kyle was the only one paying attention and taking notes, so it seemed fit that he had control of the remote.

"Yep," Cruz replied. "Actually... no. Louise told me about Doc doing it, so no, he didn't teach me."

"Cruz, get up from the floor," Tex ordered.

She was lying backwards on her chair so her arms dangled and her hands touched the ground.

"Sorry sir," She said, hoisting herself back on the chair.

"I've never seen Jackson look that surprised before," Cal remarked, touching his face. "Or that expressive. His face is always the same. He'll never get wrinkles."

"Okay, so at least he'll know not to ram you into the wall again," Kyle said, rewinding the clip one more time. "But seriously Cruz. You had a huge advantage - the element of surprise. He'll be prepared next time, and you might not be."

"What can I do?" Cruz asked, serious this time. "It's not like he's gonna stop being aggressive to me, or _anyone_."

"That's what I was thinking," Kyle continued, turning off the TV and facing her. "We need a plan. A really fucking well thought-out plan."

"Kyle and I are good at those." Cal added, smiling at her and Tex.

"I took some notes throughout the race and I gotta say - these next-gens are damn good at racing, Cruz. Even better than you, but that's understandable right now. They've trained their whole lives and their cars... whew." Kyle continued. "But you have something they don't have. _Personality_."

"A wise man once told me that racing isn't all about winning." Cal interrupted.

Tex blushed and shifted in his seat.

"So you're telling me it's okay to not win?" Cruz asked incredulously. "And let Storm rack up all the points? I can win again, guys. Momentum, right?"

"We're sure you can Cruz, with the proper practice," Cal said. "But what we were thinking was winning over the _crowd_, not necessarily the race. There's no telling what good PR can do. You're the new face of Dinoco – of course people will be interested, and old fans of the 51 will adore you!"

"I've been studying Storm all the way up from the grandstands while Cal was still a racer. If there's one thing I learned, it's that Storm values his public image and how people view him, possibly even more than winning. You taking his spotlight will definitely hit a nerve. It'll throw him off balance." Kyle said firmly, looking at her straight in the eye. "Leave it to us, Cruz. We'll make you the princess of the sport. All you have to do is practice and win some points."

"You have the skills – they just need to be perfected for the track. You're racing with the big boys, remember." Cal cracked a grin. "First female Dinoco racer, not to mention a minority. You'll be a big hit with the audience."

"We'll get a bunch of sponsors, not just Dinoco. Imagine - Storm won't even be able to turn on his TV without seeing you in every ad. The RCN will go crazy for you. You'll have him losing momentum in no time." Kyle finished.

Cruz stared at them as her mind went blank. She felt like she was a foreigner in this new world. She knew nothing about PR, and doubted that she'd even have fans. Would she have to wear makeup underneath her helmet? She realized they were expecting her to answer.

"I, uh yeah, so all I have to do is train, right?" She stammered as her headache increased. "It's _really_ hot in here."

"Great! Cal and I'll get this plan in action. Don't worry, we have a whole team for this kinda stuff. Cruz, your target audience will be older adults, fans of the sport for a long time. Or younger males." Kyle stood up, wiping his sweat.

"I better check up on those guys upstairs," Tex said, slapping Cal on the back. "Glad you're apart of the team again, old sport. You too, Cruz."

"We need to leave for Talladega by tomorrow," Cal reported. "The other guys are already on their way there."

Cruz's heart pounded as the two other older men stood up to leave the room. They seemed so experienced and she felt so... naive. She began to get up but stopped herself.

She looked left and caught a glimpse of her reflection on the dark screen. Her wide eyes stared back at her brown hair curtaining her darker skin. Her face looked too fat, her neck too short and her thighs squished against the seat. She blinked and the TV seemed to bore holes in her face, daring her to look away.

That face and body would be on televisions all over the country. It'd be playing in restaurants, hotels and social media sites. It'd be playing on the screens of teenage boys' phones, making fun of her or ogling her - one of the two. It'd be playing on Storm's huge TV, making his hate for her only grow. It'd be playing as her mom washed the dishes, regretting ever letting her daughter leave home.

She always thought racing would be a dream come true. Her career was finally starting; it was all she ever wanted since she was a kid.

_You can't have a rainbow without a little rain_, she reminded herself, and swiftly followed the Dinoco men out of the room. She needed to get her fears behind her and push forward. _Racer, not a traine_r.

She'd prove herself worthy to bear the number 51.

* * *

The Vitoline team had arrived a couple hours before nightfall. Although it was still April, the night air was warm and sticky. The hotel's AC was on full blast, but Chase Racelott was in need of a walk and fresh air.

He left his room quickly, bringing a bottle of Mountain Dew. He never got to drink it in public anymore. He had a partnership with Vitoline, and being shown drinking Mountain Dew would create a conflict of interest. It was definitely one of the few downsides of having sponsors.

He plugged in his earphones and was ready to explore the track when he saw Tim Treadless already there. Tim was talking on the phone, so Chase decided to keep his distance and leave him be for a few minutes. His favorite song was on anyways, and he didn't feel like turning it off yet.

When Tim finally hung up the phone, Chase caught up to him.

"Hey Tim," He grinned, nodding at his phone. "Your girlfriend?"

"Huh? Oh, no," Tim laughed awkwardly. "Just my little sister, Zoe. She got her first apartment last week."

Chase raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Didn't know you had a little sister."

"Not many people do," Tim replied, scratching his head. "Except Storm. She hates his guts, though."

"Understandable," Chase laughed and showed him his bottle of Mountain Dew. "Jealous?"

Tim chuckled and shook his head, facing the sky. "Bro, I'm not supposed to be drinking that. Besides, I got my own stash of Gatorade myself."

They both grinned and Tim took out his hidden bottle of Gatorade. They simultaneously took a sip and let the cold drink combat the hot weather.

Tim and Chase had been racing together for a long time now, but only became close this year. They'd been in the same series before, when they were a bit younger, but never got around to talking. Even when they both competed in the Piston Cup last year, they never talked until Jackson Storm came along. Then a bunch of racers banded together to talk crap about him, and Tim and Chase started to hang out. They were the same age and both hated the same person. What better reason to be friends?

However, like all other racers, they were only on a first-name basis off the track. On race days, there was no such thing as "Chase," or "Tim." Just Racelott and Treadless, or numbers 24 and 28. They only talked crap about each other on the track, which ironically made them seem closer. But everybody talked crap about Jackson Storm. Anywhere, anytime.

"So why are you here?" Chase asked. It was unlike Tim to be wandering the track at night. "You had some private secrets with your "sister"?

Tim shot him a dirty look. "You know the only girls on my phone are my mom and my sister, right."

"Yeah yeah." Chase smiled, waving it off.

"I realized I forgot my sunglasses and laptop," Tim explained. "So I went back to the trailer, got my laptop – but my sunglasses weren't there. Anyhow, I needed to tell Zoe when to come so she can watch the race."

"Don't worry man, I got an extra pair." Chase broke into a smile. "You're lucky to have me."

"Thanks, Chase," Tim let out a sigh of relief. They continued walking along the track. "I owe you one."

"You sure do," Chase said. "I'll keep that in mind."

**A/N: Okay I have no idea when the Piston Cup series starts buT it's April now. Also Talladega was definitely not the second race of the season this year but it was in April sooo please go with it haha**


	3. Chapter 3: Shifting Gears

**Chapter Three: Shifting Gears **

Although Lightning always hated to admit it, Cruz was good at her job. One of the greatest, actually. It took a lot of energy to handle eight trainees at once, each racer shifting in and out every month like tasks on a to-do list. Even when she was training Lightning, she had to deal with a crap ton of other responsibilities at the same time. She was focused, determined, and knew when to put her feelings aside. Her tia used to call her "chica loca" because of her tendency to lose sleep over her training, but Cruz always told herself everything would pay off in the end.

Now, Lightning couldn't help but scoff. All of that work without breaking a sweat herself, and here she was at Talladega, excusing herself for a moment to _apologize_ to Jackson Storm. There were two days left until the big race, and Cruz was already out here making friends with her opponents. She had the best practice lap for Chrysler's sake.

"Cruz, where do you think you're going?" Lightning called, but the young rookie was already walking towards the recognizably pitch-black trailer.

Lightning knew that trailer all too well. All the racers instinctively cover their ears whenever it pulls into the stadium. Now EDM replays in Lightning's head when he tries going to bed. It's… pretty awful.

"Cruz?" Lightning called out a second time, but she was already long gone. The old racer's voice faltered as he shook his head. The ringing in his ears only increased when Ray, Storm's crew chief, sneered at Cruz as she passed him.

He _really_ had to work on the whole authoritative voice thing.

Lightning sighed. It didn't help that none other than Cal was Cruz's new crew chief. Lightning couldn't help but feel conflicted – like he should be in Cal's position, even though he still wanted to race. He really didn't think this through.

"Son, what happened out there?" Smokey panted as he approached the dejected driver. "You damn well hit into the wall. Is everything alright?"

"Wha- oh yeah," He said distractedly, tearing his eyes away from the IGNTR tent. "Yeah, just a slipup - it's practice run anyways. Still feels like off-season, you know?"

Smokey eyed him wearily before placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know you've drove on this track more times than I can count, boy. I'm not going to baby you."

He squeezed his shoulder and proceeded to walk into Dinoco's garage, carefully stepping over the stool Lightning was sitting on.

Lightning huffed and stared at the car they were working on in the garage. It was a bright red Chevy, like always, but instead of the Rusteze logo on the hood, there was an unmistakable white dinosaur. The rear bumper was damaged, thanks to Lightning's slipup.

Simply looking at the car made Lightning feel terrible, mostly because it reminded him of his rookie years. He would've traded anything in the world back then to sport the Dinoco logo on his firesuit, and like anything with high expectations, he felt all the more disappointed. He thought wearing the Dinoco suit would propel him back to the past he used to dream about, as if he could go back to 2006, go down the alternative pathway and relive the past decade all over again. He felt like a poser – like he was trying to make up for lost time.

A few engineers sat in the car, inspecting the inner mechanics and making sure everything was safe. To their left, Luigi and Guido were frantically giving directions to several pitties. Next to them was the Dinoco spotter - Kyle was it? He was busy watching reruns of Cruz's practice laps while lazily tossing a roll of duct tape up in the air. The sun was still high and there was much to be done, for every crew in the stadium.

Smokey was right - it definitely wasn't Lightning's first time at Talladega. He'd raced here more than ten times and knew the track inside and out. But why did everything feel so different?

He attributed his crappy attitude to the absence of his friends from Radiator Springs. He knew that he wasn't the centre of their lives, but it felt surreal to be racing without them now. Mater, Sally, Ramone - even _Fillmore and Sarge_ \- he missed like hell. In his rookie days, he was fine even without a crew chief. How he managed, he didn't know. If he were to do that today, it'd seem impossible; he'd grown dependant on those guys.

And then there was Cruz. She'd been there for him when the rest of the gang couldn't, especially during the last off-season when it mattered the most; she equaled the support system of the entire town. He'd been so hopeful to restart his life and pretend that everything that happened, well, _didn't. _Cruz helped him realize how much Doc meant to him as they probed at his past together. Being her mentor made him feel a little closer to Doc, too. Although him and Cruz were immensely different, he saw a little bit of himself in her, and that seemed to suffice for the loss of identity he'd suffered. She made him feel like a father figure –something he wasn't sure he'd like, but did.

Lightning thought back to the bar in Thomasville, when they first met Junior, River and Louise before the season kicked off. He couldn't have mustered enough courage to go there all by himself, let alone venture out onto the dirt track. He hated having to suppress his grief over Doc's death for years, and desperately hoped physically going to Thomasville would confirm his death somehow. But instead, something about the place made him feel as if Doc was still alive, and being too close to him would cause Lightning severe heart damage.

He forlornly gazed at the red car again. He drove in the same paint scheme over and over for his entire life; it was all he knew. If his life was a movie, there would be a cherry hued filter draping every moment. That red paint scheme defined _Lightning McQueen_, and he wasn't so sure if he liked that version of himself anymore. Even this ridiculous Dinoco version of him felt so out of place.

Lightning was an adult now, albeit a rather confused one. He wondered if the reason he was so obsessed with the past was because it was the only thing familiar to him.

It was too late to change his paint scheme now, but he had some ideas in mind for the next race. He stood up from his stool, searching for a certain CEO.

"Hey Tex, can I ask for a favor…"

* * *

Cruz held her metallic yellow helmet firmly under her arm and strode towards the infamous IGNTR hauler. Storm's driver, Gale, couldn't be seen. She was a pretty woman in her 40s, related to Ray Reverham. It was no surprise, they looked strikingly alike.

Cruz couldn't help but notice how Storm's crew all looked the same – with the exception of a couple engineers. Not only were they dressed in the same IGNTR attire, they even had the same facial features and expressions. Storm definitely looked like he was apart of the team, but his team didn't necessarily look like they were a part of Storm. His crew was their own little tight-knit family, who just happened to take on Storm and his bratty antics. Courtesy of the one and only, Ray Reverham. Ray pushed Storm and Storm pushed back, but that was it. Cruz doubted he talked to anyone in his crew besides Ray.

To be fair, you're _kinda_ expected to interact with your crew chief.

As far as anyone on the track could see, Storm was completely fine with being alone. Gale, Leon, Quincy – he could tolerate. The rest? Forget it. He paid for their salaries.

"Storm!" Cruz yelled, trying to catch the runner-up's attention. She was sweating profusely inside her race suit; she'd been in the stuffy car for what felt like hours.

Cruz definitely didn't have to work very hard to catch his attention. She was all Storm thought about for the entire week. Jackson Storm never _loses_… it just isn't in his vocabulary. And yet, to a nobody from nowhere? A former trainer, of all things? It was worse than losing to McQueen (which he never experienced, _mind you_)_. _He shook himself out of his inner monologue before his thoughts spiraled out of control.

God, what was Ray going to say to him? She was so good during practice that the other next-gens began striking up conversations with her. Yeah, another excuse for them to avoid Jackson Storm.

He scowled when he saw her reflection smiling at him on his shiny trailer.

The moody racer mentally cursed and tried inching away, but he was helplessly trapped. His swearing only increased when he realized she was alone. Where was the press? The young racer made Storm actually wish for the RSN to intervene. Would he have to resort to a fight, or something? He considered the idea, but remembered he still had his helmet on. He would look like a coward if he went at it with head protection. Plus, going at a little girl like that wouldn't be good for his image.

_But that girl beat you_, he reminded himself, as his heart beat out of his chest. His pace quickened as he pretended not to notice her.

"Gale c'mon, where are you," He hissed, but his driver was nowhere to be seen. His trailer had the newest lock system, courtesy of, again, Ray Reverham. Storm debated on yelling for Gale but he hated attracting attention off the track. He was painfully aware of the former trainer walking towards him, probably to give him racing advice, or whatever trainers do. All Storm wanted was to leave the scene of the crime as soon as possible – the crime being his major effin loss.

As soon as he was about to run towards the back of the trailer to escape, a slender finger tapped him on the back. She couldn't exactly reach his shoulder with ease.

"Storm," Cruz began, mustering up all the courage she had.

He chose to ignore her. Five painful seconds passed by. His lips were turning white.

"Ok," Cruz nodded curtly. "I wanted to apologize about last week."

Storm raised an eyebrow. _What was wrong with this girl?_ He almost forgot about his plan to ignore her, but he caught his tongue.

Cruz let out a long sigh. She knew herself that her attempt at being professional would go nowhere. She knew little about the racing world, but heck, she could try. They were supposed to talk, right?

"I mean," Cruz said. "You were being a jerk, but if I hadn't egged you on, maybe it wouldn't have ended that way?"

"I only lost by 0.3 seconds." Storm said strongly, realizing immediately after that he had spoken. He couldn't help himself; his ego was hurt. "You'll end up another McQueen." He sneered.

Cruz bit back a smile after hearing his voice. "Took all we had to beat you." Her laughter pierced the air and he felt like his eardrums would burst. Her voice was so goddamn _loud. _Not to mention annoying.

"Lucky number 95, huh," Storm said drily, rolling his eyes. His feet were still planted on the ground and his fingers trembled. _Get it together_, he thought.

He finally turned 180 degrees to give her a once-over; she was shorter than he thought. She had a lot of nerve poking fun at a guy like him, previous Piston Cup champion and all.

"Between us winners, can we be friends?" Cruz continued to gloat over her win, twisting her feet and dancing on the spot. Storm simply looked at her in annoyance while she kept dancing. _Thank god simulators existed._ If he had a trainer like that, he'd go insane.

Storm kept his stoic facial expression but cast furtive glances around them. "Shut up Ramirez." He hissed, glancing left and right. She kept dancing around his trailer, chanting something about being friends. At this rate she would definitely attract the RSN and Natalie Certain. "Just shut up," He repeated harshly, grabbing her arms and steadying her.

"Hey, you finally called me by my name for once – Ramirez," She noticed, calming down. Her eyelashes looked longer than usual – not like Jackson paid any attention before.

"As if, um, costume girl." Storm bit his tongue and discreetly let go of her. He was breaking composure, fast. He saw Gale approaching the hauler from the corner of his eye and breathed a sigh of relief. "Don't say I didn't warn you. You got a big storm coming."

He backed into his hauler right as Gale turned on the ignition.

As soon as she was sure Jackson was gone, Cruz smirked and flipped her hair. She tossed her helmet up and caught it in one hand with ease – a neat move she learned from Kyle.

Let _Win Piston Cup Master Plan: Phase One_ begin.

Break down Jackson Storm.

On second thought, let his damn car break down too.


End file.
